Flow of the Nile

Going through the contacts list on this phone of mine,
Its your name my hand always seem to find,
I wish we could hang but just don’t have the time,
So I only get to chat when you’re on the line,

Because we are both on our seperate grinds,
I’m doing this for us to build a better life,
But even though we talk everyday or night,
I miss you like how in winter they miss the sunshine,

I wonder how people in my position would cope,
In a time before they invented the mobile phone,
Because every minute waiting to talk to you feels like eternity,
And every line out your mouth sounds like a poetic verse to me,

So be careful and don’t make me wait too long,
And make me miss you like a deaf man misses song,
Because it feels like to your voice my ears belong,
And the world seems mute when its gone,

Your voice makes my ears tremble like dubstep,
And we may talk mainly about the same subject,
But what better subject could there be to select,
Than to talk about God and his prophet,

I feel like my words are like the white nile yours are like the blue,
And our conversations are like where they meet, Khartoum,
And our words are like the waters as they never run out,
Yet I fear what was to happen were there a drought?

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